


Piratica

by Alexandria (heartfullofelves)



Category: Spartacus Series (TV), Spartacus: War of the Damned
Genre: Canon Divergence, F/F, Pirates, Post-Canon, Revenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2019-02-07 01:51:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12830799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartfullofelves/pseuds/Alexandria
Summary: Saxa survives the final battle and takes revenge on the Romans.





	Piratica

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from one of my favourite book series when I was like 12.

**i.**

Not many women’s names strike fear into the hearts of Roman men, but those that do do so with good reason. Three pirate queens terrorise the Mare Nostrum, disturbing trade and taking Roman lives as easily as they take ships.

The brunette is the least fearsome, more likely to drink one’s wine than throw one overboard, but her blonde lover, the German Amazon, laughs as she sinks ships. They say she fought in Spartacus’s army of rebel slaves. They say she butchers men with her knives. They say that the announcement of her name causes her victims to soil themselves.

Her partner in crime, the redhead, was once a Roman woman, the rumours say. They do not know why she orders all her victims to be branded with an L. Nor do they understand her obsession with fire.

 

**ii.**

After the end, Saxa held more anger towards the Romans than she had yet held in her life. Romans had died that day, but it was not enough. They had not understood the reason for the rebellion; they had not understood the cry for freedom. She would teach them.

She asked her one remaining German brother if he would join her. With dark, empty eyes, Agron said he was done fighting.

“Do not tell me,” she replied, rolling her eyes, “you wish to settle down and farm goats with your Syrian boy.”

“Perhaps.”

That was the end of their conversation.

Sibyl and most of the other surviving rebels decided to follow Agron. To Saxa’s surprise, however, the Roman matron, Laeta, agreed to join her.

“I have debt to settle with Crassus,” explained Laeta, eyes bright with the same desire for vengeance that Saxa herself owned. “I will gladly lend aid in your quest.”

Saxa smiled her gratitude. Then she turned to Belesa.

“I wish to stand by your side,” said Belesa, wrapping an arm around Saxa’s waist. “I almost lost you to the Romans, and I have no desire to lose you again.”

It was settled.

**iii.**

On their maiden voyage, Belesa kills a man. Saxa frowns, watching as Belesa hurls over the side of the ship. She goes to her, holds back her hair.

“Gratitude,” says Belesa, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand once she has finished.

Saxa strokes Belesa’s back. “Do not worry,” she says. “You get used to it. In time.”

That night, they fuck as usual, but there is a tenderness to it that has yet been present. Without words, Saxa promises to be there for Belesa and help her grow. She keeps to herself her surprise that Belesa, a Thracian, is not trained in the ways of battle. Perhaps Belesa’s Roman masters beat it out of her.

 

**iv.**

Saxa loves what they do. She would seize any and every chance to fight, steal from, or kill Romans, but Laeta counsels her and shows her how to think as a Roman. She imagines, perhaps, that Spartacus would be proud of them, for they are not without strategy. The old Saxa would not care for such a concept, but her comrades make her see reason.

Sometimes, however, she overrules them. This was all her idea, after all.

 

**v.**

The evening sun makes Laeta’s flamelike hair even redder. The wind plays with it, sweeping it out of her face. Dressed in black, she cuts a slim yet striking figure on the prow of the ship.

Saxa joins her. “What are you doing?” she asks.

“Remembering.” Laeta’s face is unreadable. “What are _you_ doing?”

“Remembering,” Saxa answers. She stumbles on the foreign word – her Latin is yet in need of much improvement – but mutual understanding drifts between them on the ocean air.

Belesa walks up to them, a smile on her suntanned face. “You two make a fine picture,” she says. “I wish I could capture it for all eternity.”

 

**vi.**

The battle is a hard one, with no clear victor at this moment in time. Saxa throws herself into the fight, not defending but attacking. Her knives swish through the air, finding their targets. She roars. She _will_ take this ship.

She slits a man’s throat, then freezes as she hears a scream. She whips around, golden hair flying.

“Belesa!” she yells.

Her lover is about to fall, a Roman blade to her throat. Saxa is too far away. But Laeta is not.

After the fight, Saxa knows she ought to thank Laeta for saving Belesa’s life, but her guilt is stronger than her gratitude – she should have saved Belesa, but she had not even been thinking of her.

She makes Belesa fuck her hard, as punishment. Then, she worships Belesa. Belesa accepts the apology.

 

**vii.**

They never say the word, but they both know it is true.

Love.

It means different things for each of them, and while they do not admit it, neither do they deny it.

 

**viii.**

When Laeta fights, she is desperate, unskilled. Belesa is the same. Saxa trains them, teaches them how to hold a sword, how to defend themselves, and how to attack. The combination of training and wholesome food seized from the ships they have taken strengthens them. In time, they may climb their way up to the same league as Saxa.

She enjoys watching them learn, watching them grow. They have come far, and cannot be mistaken for the traumatised, helpless women they were after Spartacus’s defeat. Saxa takes some responsibility. But she cannot claim all. These women have grown on their own terms.

Pirating suits them.

**ix.**

They expand their crew to an impressive number, many times what it was when they began. Saxa orders – with Belesa and Laeta’s agreement – that they take on a larger prize. The ship does not surrender, and the resulting battle is well fought. The pirate queens tell their crew not to kill the highest-ranking Roman but to capture him alive. Laeta has advised that they use him for information or as ransom, whichever is most useful to them. A ship of this size, with this many soldiers, must be carrying important cargo, after all.

After what feels like hours and hours, the Romans have all surrendered or been slain. Three of the pirate crew lead a well-dressed man, hands tied behind his back, to Saxa, Laeta, and Belesa.

Belesa’s eyes widen, and she swears.

Laeta laughs, and laughs, and laughs. Crassus will pay dearly for this.

Saxa’s face is as dark as a storm cloud. “Caesar.” She spits at him.

They will receive a large ransom for this prize. But first, they have vengeance to exact.

 

**x.**

Saxa lies on the bloody deck, staring at the blue sky, and making her peace with the gods. This day was inevitable, as it is for every warrior. All good things must come to an end, and as Saxa reflects, her life _has_ been good. Glory has always been hers.

She grunts as another wave of pain washes over her. Perhaps hearing her grunt, a dark figure blocks her view of the sky, and she frowns at them.

“You are hurt,” says Laeta.

“Obviously,” mumbles Saxa.

Laeta calls for Belesa to bring some bandages. “Hold on,” she says. “We will save you.”

Saxa gazes up at her comrades. “I think not.”

Belesa presses a bandage against Saxa’s wound. “We will,” she insists, voice sweet with promise. “We will.”

Saxa smiles.


End file.
